Prisons Are Built With Stones Of Law.

To The Eyes Of The Man Of Imagination, Nature Is Imagination Itself.

Drive Your Cart And Plow Over The Bones Of The Dead.

The Eye Sees More Than The Heart Knows.

Mock On, Mock On, Voltaire, Rousseau! Mock On, Mock On: 'tis All In Vain! You Throw The Sand Against The Wind, And The Wind Blows It Back Again. And Every Sand Becomes A Gem Reflected In The Beams Divine; Blown Back They Blind The Mocking Eye, But Still In Israel's Paths They Shine. The Atoms Of Democritus And Newton's Particles Of Light Are Sands Upon The Red Sea Shore, Where Israel's Tents Do Shine So Bright.

And Priests In Black Gowns Were Walking Their Rounds And Binding With Briars My Joys And Desires. (from 'the Garden Of Love')